Page 2 of How to Enchant a Viscount
Maeve hesitated, running her fingers over the worn leather cover. “I promise I will.” She did not promise when she would though. They all had to read it their own time. When they were ready. Athena would understand that. She had not started reading it immediately either.
Athena gave her a knowing look, then leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Good. Now, wish me luck.” One of her dark curls, so like Maeve’s own, slipped free and tumbled down her forehead. Maeve grinned. Athena was always so unruly and even her hair could not be tamed.
“You do not need it,” Maeve replied with a soft smile. “But I wish you all the happiness in the world.” and she did. She wanted nothing but the best for both of her sisters.
Athena beamed, then turned and swept from the room, leaving Maeve alone once more. Maeve glanced down at the journal in her hands. The weight of it felt heavier than it should. She knew the words within belonged to a woman she had never known, yet they were her mother’s thoughts, her memories—perhaps even her dreams. Would they reveal something new? Something Maeve had not even thought to question? She did not ask Athena about her own experience with the journal. Perhaps she would after she had her time with it. But she had not wanted to cloud her thoughts with Athena’s experience. When she read the journal she wanted it to be without expectations. Though how could she not have any at all? This was her mother. A woman she had longed for her entire life…
She exhaled slowly and set the journal down beside her painting. One mystery at a time. The journal could wait. Her sister was getting married, and she had to dress for the event. She would not need as much to get ready as Athena, but she would still have to be presentable. Her gaze drifted back to the landscape she had created, her fingers lightly tracing the edges of the canvas. There was something about it—something more than just oil and pigment. Who did it belong to and why? What was it about this place that seemed so magical?
A memory she did not have. A place she had never been. Yet, deep in her bones, she knew it existed. And somehow, some way, she would find it—and the person that called this place home. Surely, they were one and the same…
One
Brooks Davis, Viscount Pemberton leaned back against the carriage and sighed. He still could not believe he was traveling to the Duke of Thornridge’s estate. Not for a nice visit with one of his closest friends. That would be far preferable than his true reason for traveling from the temptations London offered. No, he was not going merely for a visit. He was traveling there for his other friend’s wedding. The Earl of Kendal was tying himself to some chit he had foolishly fallen in love with.
Love. He rolled his eyes at the thought of that ridiculous emotion. Brooks had no faith in the power of love. It had never done anything for him and he suspected that would not change. Love was for fools and the one thing Brooks prided himself on was that he was no fool. But he would go to Kendal’s wedding. Not because he believed in love, but because he did believe in loyalty. Kendal had always been there for him and he would not fail his friend in any way. If Kendal believed that this marriage was the right thing for him, well then, so did Brooks. It was the least he could do.
The carriage rolled to a stop and Brooks glanced out the window. Apparently he had finally arrived at Thornridge’s estate. The large manor house had tall slash windows symmetrically placed to allow sunlight to stream into the rooms. Ornate cornices, stone quoins, and classical columns enhances its regal appearance.
Brooks glanced back and the long gravel drive that was flanked by ancient oaks that led to the imposing front entrance. He turned is attention back to the double doors with its polished brass knockers. It was an impressive entryway and befitting of a duke.
It made him think of his own estate. He hadn’t been back to his ancestral home in years. Not since his father’s death five years earlier. When he had come into the title… His mother was still there and she often begged him to return. But he couldn’t. Something his mother fully understood, and yet she still constantly wrote to him asking him to do the one thing she knew he would never do. It would be like reliving his father’s death all over again. He did not want to ever return there. Even if the starkness of the cliffs overlooking the sea called to him. There were too many bad memories there.
He sighed. This was not the time to go down memory lane. Especially one that was filled with so much pain. He pushed those thoughts away and stepped out of the carriage. He had a wedding to attend and a couple friends to visit with. That was what mattered in this moment.
Thornridge stepped out of the entrance to his ducal estate and frowned. “You’re late,” he said.
“I like to think I am right on time.” Brooks grinned. “Kendal hasn’t gone and gotten married yet has he?”
The duke shook his head. “No, but we need to leave immediately to go to the Earl of Harwood’s estate. The wedding should start soon and I would hate for us to disappoint Kendal.”
“Then why are you even still here?” Brooks quirked a brow. “You could have departed without me.”
Thornridge sighed. “Because I know you.” He met Brooks’s gaze. “You would not miss Kendal’s wedding, but because you are you, well, that also meant you would arrive at the last possible second.”
He grinned. “I do like to make an entrance.”
“That you do,” he agreed, then grinned.
Thornridge shook his head, motioning toward the waiting carriage. “Come, we must leave now, or we truly will be late.”
Brooks climbed back into the carriage with a resigned sigh, stretching his legs as the door closed behind them. “Tell me, Thornridge, how is it that I have found myself on this absurd journey? A wedding? A man willfully walking into the shackles of marriage? I never thought I would see the day.”
The duke smirked, settling opposite him. “And yet, here we are. Kendal is in love, and we are his loyal friends. I assume you do not object to standing at his side?”
Brooks scoffed. “Of course not. I would not dream of abandoning him on such an important day. But do not expect me to revel in this spectacle.” He stared out the window as they traveled down the road. He had not truly paid much attention to the time or he would have just gone to the earl’s estate. But of course the duke had expected that of him. Was he so predictable then? He glanced at his friend and held back the sigh burrowing inside of him. He hated that they could depend on him for being well, undependable.
Thornridge gave him a knowing look. “You jest now, but I wager one day you will find yourself similarly ensnared.”
Brooks let out a bark of laughter. “Not bloody likely. I have managed to avoid such folly for this long, and I do not intend to falter now.” He would not marry. He had no desire to be shackled to one woman for the rest of his life. He loved being untethered to any real responsibility.
The duke merely shrugged, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Fate has a way of upending the plans of even the most stubborn men.”
The carriage rolled forward, the sound of wheels crunching over gravel filling the space between them. Brooks leaned back against the plush interior, gazing out the window at the sprawling countryside. The estates of England were something to admire—vast, enduring, filled with tradition and responsibility. A life he had walked away from, one he had no desire to reclaim. “And what of you?” He turned back to the duke. “Are you going to find yourself a wife.”
The duke glanced away then. They both knew there was a time he had considered it. That he had thought himself in love. But he had decided that marriage, on the advice of someone Thornridge trusted, to that woman would be a detriment. Sometimes he thought the duke regretted that decision. “I do not believe marriage is in my future,” he replied quietly.
“That’s what I thought,” Brooks replied. Thornridge did not say another word. None needed to be spoke really. They were both of like minds in that one regard.
